


The Hunt for Catdog

by UnstableUniverses



Category: CatDog (Cartoon), Community (TV)
Genre: Addiction, Coffee, Crack, Film Noir, Gen, Humor, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 13:29:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13342218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnstableUniverses/pseuds/UnstableUniverses
Summary: Annie's sewing project has gone missing. Now it's up to detectives Troy and Abed to find this thing she calls "catdog."Written for the Unstable Universes Podcast.





	The Hunt for Catdog

Rain battered the windows to my office as I smirk at the taste of my coffee. Hot. Black. Just like my partner sitting next to me, Troy Barnes. He idly stirs more sweetener into his already sickly sweet cup of joe as he reads over the college newspaper.

 

“The Dean is still trying to put together a personal cheerleading squad for Winger, huh… Son of a bitch will never learn,” Troy said.

 

Before I could retort, the scream of a little bitch rang out from the hall just outside of our study room turned private investigator office.

 

Troy’s glance caught mine over the top of the newspaper. We both nodded, Troy folded his newspaper, we stood, and exited the room. My coffee left steaming on the desk.

 

The hall, usually as chaotic as an Inspector Spacetime convention, was at a standstill. A crowd of college students stood silent and facing one direction like the Terracotta Warriors.

 

Troy and I pushed our way through the throng to see what they were all staring at. Sitting, slumped against a locker was Annie Edison. A young, pretty thing, neurotic to the bone, used to be a real pill popper if memory serves. She usually prim and proper, but something must have shaken her.

 

“Come on, doll,” I held out my hand. “We’ll get you cleaned up and sort out this mess.”

 

Troy and I escorted her the ladies’ room. We waited outside as she reapplied her makeup and composed herself. Troy glared at me and tapped his watch as the time passed. I shook my head and passed him a candy cigarette to keep him occupied.

 

Annie emerged shortly after Troy finished his last crunch. She was a damn fine woman when she put in the effort, but today she couldn’t be damned.

 

I led her back to the office, Troy watching our backs to make sure we weren’t being tailed. I opened the door, held it for Annie to enter first, and the two of us followed.

 

She sat on an overstuffed leather couch in front of our shared desk. We sat behind it. I reached over, grabbed my java that I’d left before the tomfoolery in the hall and took a sip.

 

“Damn. Cold.” I muttered, pouring the mug of tepid coffee into a trash can.

 

“So tell us, Annie. What’s got your panties in a twist?” Troy cut straight to the chase, he wouldn’t have it with my penchant for small talk when a case was afoot.

 

“A no good scoundrel busted open my locker and ransacked it,” she began. “I had something very important in there, irreplaceable. My final for the Science of Sewing class. I worked damn hard on it and now somebody gets to hand it in as theirs.”

 

“I know just the type to steal a final assignment. If not him, then somebody he knows will have it,” I explain, “So just tell us, what should we be asking for?”

 

“I called it a… ‘catdog,’” her sad eyes turned to ones of embarrassment briefly.

 

I looked over to my partner. Troy was smirking slightly. I must admit, the name was silly. But the case was serious.

 

“We’ll recover your catdog for you, don’t you worry, Ms. Edison,” I reassured her, standing up to signal the meeting’s end. “We’ll be in contact when it is in our possession.”

 

Troy and I exited the office, leaving Annie on the couch.

 

No discussion was needed about our destination. We aimed directly for the cafeteria and marched up to the oldest sack of shit you’ve ever seen.

 

“Pierce, hand over the catdog,” Troy demanded.

 

“ _What_?” the old man shouted in angry bewilderment. He stood from his cafeteria table, towering over my partner. “What makes you think I would steal from Annie’s locker?”

 

“Because he never mentioned Annie or a locker, Pierce,” I pointed out with a sly smile.

 

At that statement, Pierce clutched the left of his chest and collapsed into a convulsing pile on the table.

 

“Help me, goddamn you. I’m having a goddamn heart attack,” he seethed through gritted teeth.

 

But we were wise to Pierce’s tricks. We’d seen this trick before more times than I can count. I saw him fake a heart attack at a drive through to avoid paying, but still drove away just fine.

 

Troy grabbed Pierce by the lapels and peeled the shaking man off the table, standing him back up. With a quick punch to the jaw, Pierce snapped out of the charade.

 

“Hey, don’t you hit me!” he cried out in indignation.

 

“Pierce. The catdog.” I said plainly, this was going on far longer than I had hoped. The caffeine withdrawal was starting to rear its ugly head. I could feel a migraine creeping from my temples to my eyes. If only I’d gotten my damn coffee.

 

“Alright, fine. I sold it to Starburns. He said he was looking for an exotic pet and offered me thirty bucks.” Pierce admitted, still rubbing his jaw where Troy’s fist had connected.

 

Troy and I turned on our heels and headed to the parking lot. Troy popped open a black umbrella and held it over our heads to protect us from the downpour.

 

We approached Starburns’ airbrushed van cautiously. The windows were blacked out, so we went in blind, each grabbing a handle to the rear doors and flinging them open.

 

A cloud of smoke billowed out of the back of the van. Troy coughed, but I solemnly inhaled. This was cannabis. Indica. Low in THC. Mostly stems and seeds. Definitely cheap shit.

 

From within the cloud came a series of shouts.

 

“Aww what the hell, man?” That was Starburns, I recognize those sultry tones.

 

“We had a good hotbox going!” Another voice, this one was scratchy.

 

“Who’s out there?” A third voice, nasal and slow.

 

 The cloud cleared and what was inside made Troy turn around and immediately lose his lunch against the airbrushed art on the side of the van.

 

Starburns sat on a stained mattress in the back of his van holding a bong. Not an irregular way to find him.

 

However, sitting next to him was a goddamn crime against nature. A single beast with two front ends. One a cat. One a dog. And they were goddamn talking.

 

“Catdog, I presume?” I managed to say with as little emotion as possible.

 

“That’s me!” said the dog head.

 

“And also me,” replied the cat head, holding up a paw to threaten to slap its counterpart.

 

“What in the holy name of Inspector Spacetime are you?” Troy screamed like a little bitch.

 

“I’m a cat, he’s a dog. Annie Edison sewed us together for a project. Plain as day,” the cat explained casually.

 

“Well, I suppose you’ll both have to be coming with us. Annie has to hand you in.” I state calmly, though inside my heart is racing and my migraine is only getting worse. This had to wrap up quick.

 

I grabbed the cat by the scruff of its neck and Troy grabbed the dog’s scruff. We carried it back into the school despite its vocal protests.

 

We wrestled it through the halls and back into the office to the waiting Annie.

 

“Catdog!” she shouted in glee and ran over to us standing at the door.

 

Troy and I dropped it simultaneously. It fell to the ground and landed on its feet. The monster scrambled over to Annie’s open arms.

 

As soon as it was out of my hands, I rushed over to the coffeemaker sitting in the corner and hit the on button.

 

“How can I ever repay you?” Annie asked, looking up at us as she hugged her catdog.

 

“Get that godforsaken thing out of my sight.” I shouted, fingers pressed firmly against my temples, trying to hold back the migraine as the coffee brewed.

 

Annie put two collars on the catdog and exited the office hurriedly.

 

At long last, I sat back down at my desk. I took a gulp of my coffee, scalding the roof of my mouth, but I’ll be damned if it wasn’t the best thing I’d had all day.

 

THE END


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